


All Aboard the S.S. Maine

by taubir



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: ASL, Bisexual York, Carolina and Maine are old friends, Everybody's Big Brother North, Giving Maine some knowledge of ASL, Good Friends, Lesbian South Dakota, M/M, Mute Maine, Not much tho, PFL discourages dating among its Freelancers, Remind me to update tags pls, Some headcanons abt PFL history has been changed to fit the story, Swearing, im a sucker for embarrassed wash so expect to see lots of That, loads of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taubir/pseuds/taubir
Summary: Get it? Because it's a ship?In which a very flustered Wash tries to figure out why Maine is acting so soft towards him.





	1. The Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> This has actually been sitting in my folder for like a solid month and a half. I hated it at the time so I left it alone, but I could never bring myself to delete it.
> 
> I fixed it up and now the fic is active again! Hope you enjoy :'-)

Wash gawked up at him, and Maine stared right back. Expressionless as ever, Maine gave no acknowledgement of the action he’d just performed. He just stood there, almost as if he was expecting something in return, and Wash started to get nervous.

“Uh,” he swallowed. He glanced down at the flower in his hand. It was a perfectly simple daisy, with pure white petals surrounding a glowing, orange center. They were exactly the colors of Maine’s armor.

“Thank you,” he managed at last. Maine seemed pleased with this answer, as he nodded satisfactorily and walked away, leaving one very bewildered Wash standing in the hallway.

 

[]

 

Wash didn’t know much about Maine. The guy barely ever talked, even before his accident. The rumors he’d heard from the other agents didn’t do much to fill in the gaps, either. “No one knows where he comes from?” He’d asked one day in the locker room after training. Wyoming, pulling off his boots across from him, shrugged.

“Carolina has known him the longest. Normally, I’d suggest you simply ask her, but then I remembered that nothing is ever _simple_ with Carolina.”

“You got that right,” Wash chuckled awkwardly. His head was full of thoughts.

Lately, he and Maine had been interacting more and more. Wash didn’t know if this was just coincidence, or if the guys were pulling some long-winded and excessively convoluted prank on him, but he was starting to get a little anxious. The longer Wash spent in Maine’s presence, the more likely the chance that he’d somehow fuck up and offend Maine, before paying dearly for it later.

But each time, Maine kept his cool. Even when Wash stammered. Even when Wash pretended to ignore him at first just to avoid making more of a fool of himself. He couldn’t tell if Maine’s expressionless nature was either a blessing or a curse—was he glad that he couldn’t tell what the guy thought of him? Or was it worse being silently judged? He didn’t know.

One day, the mission didn’t go as planned. Maine had lost a fight with one of the enemies, and he slammed a fist into the pavement as the guy, who was belting out nasty insults behind him, sped off. Wash saw his fellow agent on the ground, and, without even really thinking about it, jogged over.

“Come on, big guy,” he’d said then, helping the much larger man to his feet. “Let him go. He’s not important to the mission anyway.”

Maine’s helmet turned towards him. He looked at Wash for a second, and Wash’s eyes stayed stock-still on the golden sheen of the EVA helmet. Then, suddenly, all the tension seemed to drain from Maine’s body. The transformation from seething, bristling, defeated monster to a literal giant, relaxed puppy-dog had Wash so transfixed he didn’t realize his hand was still on Maine’s arm until the guy pulled it gently away. “Sorry!” squeaked Wash, who stepped back, trying to give the agent some space. He had just been beaten nearly to a pulp, after all.

But Maine had only drawn his hand away so he could rest it gently on Wash’s shoulder. Wash looked at it, then let his gaze travel across Maine’s arm and up to his helmet. The features never changed, but this time—just this once, Wash felt like it was grinning at him.

 

[]

 

At the time, Wash was sure it was just his way of saying something like “thank you.”

The rest of the guys, however, saw something very different in Maine’s friendly gesture as they discussed their day’s mission over dinner that evening.

York’s jaw dropped open a split second before he burst into laughter. “Woah. You touched Maine on purpose and _didn’t_ get mauled? That’s...quite an accomplishment.”

“Oh, come on, York,” said North, who was sitting on Wash’s right. “I’m sure Wash was just exaggerating again. You know how he loves a good story.”

“I’m not exaggerating!” Wash protested. “That’s what he did—just patted my arm, like it was no big deal.”

“Yeah, right,” scoffed York. “If that had really happened, then why aren’t you in the infirmary right now? Guy’s hand alone must weigh, like, fifteen pounds.”

“I don’t know!” Wash’s voice had risen to a shrill pitch as his bewilderment grew. North, the naturally perceptive older brother that he was, noticed this. “I really don’t—I just have no clue as to what’s going on. I mean, God, what do you guys want from me? A transcript of the whole thing? A play-by-play?”

“Okay, okay,” North gently cut in. “We believe you, Wash.”

“We do?”

“Shut up, York.” To Wash, he continued, “So he was being friendly. Why’s it got you so riled up?”

“Because,” Wash said, suddenly receding in on himself. He wasn’t sure that this was the best thing to admit, and especially not when he was being so open and defenseless like this. Ruler number one of being a super soldier: never have your guard down, especially around your _friends_. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

That sure got everyone quiet. York and North stared at him for at least a whole minute.

North at last broke the silence. “What do you mean?” he said very carefully.

Wash shrugged. “I mean, I dunno. He’s been doing nice things to me lately. Going out of his way for me. Like...a lot. He gave me a flower once? Dunno what that was about.” He paused to gauge their reactions. When there was none that he could see, he added, “I kinda feel like there’s something I’m not getting here.”

York finally let out the laugh he’d been holding in. “Well, no _shit_! Jesus, Wash. Are you always this thick?”

Wash pouted and looked at North from some support, but the purple agent was also smiling. “Oh, Wash,” he chuckled. “Have you really not made the connection, yet?” Wash rubbed his arm self-consciously.

“Apparently not. Look, why don’t you guys just tell me? So we can get this conversation over with already.”

“Because it’s so _obvious—_ ”

“What York meant to say,” North interrupted, “is that...we thought you’d at least thought about it before. I mean, you have thought about it, right?”

“Thought about _what_?” Wash cried. He was getting more and more frustrated by the second. The past couple of weeks were so confusing for him, and these guys suddenly seemed to have all the answers to his problems. Now they were keeping it from him. A great pair of supportive friends they were.

North put a thoughtful hand on Wash’s shoulder, looked him in the eye, and said, “Ever thought...that Agent Maine might have a crush on you?”

Wash blinked. Then he blinked again. “No way,” he said at last. “What. No. I—Can Maine even feel?”

“He personally sought out and murdered the guy that took his voice,” York said. “You could call that feeling something.”

“But,” Wash fumbled, “I’m—He’s—”

“Maine doesn’t give that kind of attention to just anyone,” North pointed out. Was he smiling? That smug bastard was smiling!  “Even I haven’t gotten so much as a couple of words out of him.”

“Yeah,” said York, “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but Maine’s a bit of a lone wolf.” Then he brought a hand to his chin and frowned. “Does that mean he’s no longer a silver fox?”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, why would he—I mean, the likes of _me_ —”

Wash was really freaking out right now. Well, no, that wasn’t really the right word. He was confused as all hell, yes, but he was also horrified to find out that he was blushing furiously under his helmet. Thank god for one-way helmet visors. He knew that if either of his friends saw him reacting this way, he’d never be able to live it down.

North frowned, like that was a good question. “Well...why don’t you just ask him? After all, no one can answer that question except him,” he suggested. Wash desperately searched for signs of sarcasm in his words, but found none.

“Right. Just go up to Maine and ask him why he’s being soft on me.”

“It’s not a bad idea!”

“Man, no one just _goes up_ to Maine. Not unless they wanna be target practice for his new alien knife-rifle-thingamajig. Which, not trying to change the subject or anything, but why did he get to keep such a sick gun? And more importantly, why didn’t I think of taking some of that stuff while I was there?”

“Going off everything you’ve just told us about his treatment towards you recently,” said North, “I think you’ll be just fine.”

“Yeah,” said York, leaning his elbows on the table, grinning. “Man, I wish _I_ was the one Maine was into.” The half-blind agent sighed dreamily. “Those arms could carry me anywhere.”

North tried smacking York on the head, who ducked, laughing. “Size isn’t everything, York."

“I’m kidding! Jeez, you’re starting to sound like Florida.”

“ _Guys_ ,” Wash interrupted, and the two looked back at him. “I... _really_ don’t know how I’m going to go about all this. And honestly? I’m pretty damn scared.” Welp. There go his chances of being the bravest on Team Freelancer.

North gave him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, Wash. If there’s anything I know about Maine—in all the long years that we’ve trained together—it’s that he values consistency. Even if this isn’t at all what we think it is, I doubt he’d do anything to harm you, based off the way he’s treating you now.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one going up to talk to him.”

“And thank god for that,” chimed York, and North, apparently deciding he was done with being the supportive brother for the day, raised his glass to him.

“You guys are assholes,” Wash grumbled, and stood up to storm away. He could hear his buddies laughing good-naturedly behind him on the way out.


	2. The Late-Night Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Wash was pacing up and down the hallways again. It was starting to become a bad habit, one he’d never had before recently. But it turns out the _Mother of Invention_ was really good for hallway-pacing, because after what seemed like mere minutes, he found himself on the opposite end of the ship entirely.

“Aw, crap,” he muttered, finally coming to a stop. Despite every corridor looking pretty much the same on this godforsaken space boat, he knew he was lost. Did he really just walk the length of the ship with his head in the clouds? That was a major sign of easy distractibility. Not exactly something a soldier would want on the battlefield.

With a defeated sigh, he pulled up the map on his suit’s systems and searched for the little red dot that meant _You are here!_

He located it quickly, but another one not far from his location caught his eye. When he tapped on it, a tag popped up that read “AGENT MAINE” in bright red letters on it.

Wash gulped.

It had only been a few hours since his talk with North and York down at the mess hall. He’d tried going to bed in order to sleep on it—maybe he’d have a clearer idea of what to do about this whole situation in the morning, he rationalized. But when sleeping didn’t work out he took to the hallways, letting his legs carry him mindlessly away from all his problems.

He considered making a run for it. Running away and avoiding things seemed like a far more appealing option right now than confronting his problems. But then he shook his head and told himself to stop acting so immature. He was a grown ass adult. He could handle a little embarrassment.

Feeling a mixture of things (shame and fear among them), Wash decided to wait. The red dot rounded the corner and in front of him Agent Maine appeared.

Wash froze.

He...was out of armor. Well, so was Wash, but—man, he didn’t think _anyone_ had seen Maine out of armor before, not even Carolina! Not fully, anyway. The agent came walking down the hall, head down, looking as if he were concentrating on where his feet were stepping. He wore a simple white tank top and plain gray sweats, tied neatly against his hips with a small white-stringed bow. He was barefoot as well.

Wash tried speaking, but his throat didn’t want to work for some reason, as he watched Maine glide calmly, smoothly, down the hallway towards him. It was almost like a dream. Agent fucking Maine, survivor of six gunshots to the throat, the man who could knock someone clean out of their armor with a single punch—Wash had expected a hardened, war-torn army hero or something underneath the suit, covered head to toe in scars and face boasting a permanent ugly-scowl. But in reality? He was graceful and languid; silent not like a stone, but like a cat, tiptoeing down the floor towards Wash, swaying gently from side to side—

Wash actually slapped himself. Was he seriously writing poetry right now?! Maine was right there!

The sound of Washington hitting himself seemed to knock Maine out of his stupor, as he at last looked up. The first thing Wash saw were his eyes, which were pale gray and softened at recognizing him. His overall appearance was a mixture of angles and soft edges. It wasn’t regulation in Project Freelancer, but his head was shaved, leaving only the faintest of gray fuzz atop his broad head.

Wash gave a shy little wave. “Hey,” he said.

Maine gave the impression that he was surprised to see Wash here at this hour, despite not moving his facial muscles at all.

“Yeah, heh.” said Wash. “I’m surprised to see me here, too. I dunno, I couldn’t sleep. Then I got lost, and I was about to head back, then you appeared and…” Wash clamped his mouth shut. Fucking rambling like an idiot. _That’s only going to make you_ more _suspicious, moron_ , he berated himself.

Maine didn’t falter in his pace, and soon enough, he was standing in front of Wash, hands resting by his sides and head cocked slightly to one side.

Wash tried not to fidget. Somehow, this was worse than the stares Maine’s EVA helmet would give him whenever he entered the same room as him. It was like being under a microscope—or, no, a heat lamp. Yeah, Wash could definitely feel himself heating up. Primarily, heating up on his face.

Maine continued to watch him, and at last Wash couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to say _something_.

“So, uh.” He cleared his throat. “What brings a guy like you to a place like this at this time of night?”

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. God, that sounded like a fucking _pickup_ line. He hoped Maine hadn’t noticed.

To his surprise, Maine actually responded. He turned to point to a sign behind him, and Wash followed his gaze to see what he meant.

_BATHROOMS: MEN_

“Right,” Wash chuckled awkwardly. “Of course. So, then, you’re just on your way back to bed now?”

Maine nodded. Wash’s heart did a little flip. _Actual communication_ , he thought breathlessly. That was a good thing, right? _Wait. Would now be a good time to—?_

“Hey, Maine,” he said, before he could think twice about it. The agent raised his eyebrows to indicate he was listening, while Wash tried to find the right words among his racing thoughts. “When you, um. Back on the last mission, when we were coming home—” Washington took a deep breath, and then smiled despite himself. Jesus, he was being such a nervous nelly. This was still the same man he’d always known! Nothing had changed between them; Wash was totally freaking out for no reason.

He let out a delirious giggle. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I’m being such a dork right now. I must need sleep.”

Maine stepped forward, hesitated like he was unsure, before placing a comforting hand on Wash’s shoulder just like that day Wash had helped him to his feet from the ground. When Wash looked up at him for an explanation, he saw the corners of Maine’s mouth turned up in a small, shy smile. His eyes crinkled at the edges, and his gaze seemed to say, _it’s okay, Wash. Don’t worry about it_.

Wash felt his cheeks redden uncontrollably. He breathed out, “Thanks,” and Maine held his hand there a little more, just...gently supporting him, reassuring him, keeping him steady. Before finally letting it slide off.

Taking the opportunity the next stretch of silence offered, Wash stretched up his arms and let out a huge (fake) yawn. “Well, ah, I should probably be getting to bed now. Duty calls super early, you know how it is.” Maine nodded firmly, knowing exactly what Wash was talking about. They had the same schedule, after all.

Wash paused, wondering whether or not this was a good idea a split second before he did it, and reached up to play-punch Maine’s arm. “Thanks,” he said, and gave him a genuine smile. He really was grateful that this was Maine he was talking to, and not some other Freelancer. “Um. Again.”

Then, in the filtered light of the spaceship’s fluorescent lights, Wash thought he saw something. Maine blinked and looked away, hiding his face from view. But Wash had caught it before he did so. He could barely believe his eyes, but…

Was that a _blush_ he saw on Maine’s square cheeks?

The two parted ways like they met, with Wash giving a small wave before booking it the heck out of there. The second he was sure he was out of sight, Wash collapsed against a wall, holding his chest in one hand and running his fingers through his hair with the other. _Holy hell_ , he kept repeating over and over again in his head. Had that just happened? Like, really for real happened? He hadn’t just dreamt it all up in a late-night bout of sleepwalking? Wash’s eyes were open, but he couldn’t stop seeing the look on his friend’s face after Wash had thanked him for, well...whatever _that_ was. Maine was as expressionless without the helmet as he was with it, but in that one instant—an instant where Wash had caught him off guard, where _Wash_ was the one doing the surprising for once—Maine’s guard had slipped. And Wash had quite possibly seen everything.

Needless to say Wash settled a lot of bets early the next morning when he updated his friends on his late-night encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry you had to struggle through this chapter. Next time we get even more of the PFL gang involved, so expect much teasing for poor Wash >:-)
> 
> And hopefully some nice discussion on what a good relationship is supposed to be, "if Wash even likes guys," and how the rest of the crew feels about this new turn of events
> 
> []
> 
> QUICK THING BEFORE YOU GO: i have an idea for a RvB College AU, where the two different dorm rooms are Red and Blue base, and the two play Halo every night. Shenanigans both heavy and light hearted ensue. Would anyone be interested in seeing that?


End file.
